CHAPTER 87: HOME

Kaya

9 years ago

I decided to run.

Wolfless and endlessly abused, I knew my life in Mistfall would never change—at least, not for the better. If I wasn’t killed for sport during one of the drunken orgies others called "parties," I could be sold off as a breeder or a disposable sex slave—a mere plaything to be used and then tossed into the gutter.

My options for escape were as limited as my money. At fifteen, with nothing but the skills to scrub floors and wash dishes, I knew surviving among humans was a fantasy. I’d overheard omegas talk about part-time jobs in coffee shops and restaurants, but the wages they earned could barely buy a week’s worth of bread, let alone rent a single room.

So I made the only choice left to me. I would risk everything and join a rogue pack.

Several rogue packs lived in the surrounding lands. Some were vicious, ruled by cruelty and blood. Others were simply outcasts—wolves who had abandoned the rigid hierarchy to live freely, bound only by mutual survival.

It was the latter I sought.

I left without saying a word to anyone. Without making it obvious that I wanted to leave. Without preparations. Just packed whatever I could scramble from the closet I shared with other girls and snuck my way out of the pack house, praying I would never have to go back to it again.

But reality was merciless, and it struck quickly.

It was almost impossible to survive on your own without a wolf.

Although I did try to stick as close to human settlements as possible, whenever I had to venture into the forest, my life was nothing but a constant struggle to stay alive.

Predators, stray wolves, hunters...

I had no idea how I was able to stay hidden for so many days without anyone sensing my scent, and yet, my relief did not last long.

Because after almost two weeks of wandering around aimlessly, I finally took the wrong turn and crossed the border of the infamous Black Bone Pack.

The "badnit" rogues.

Black Bone was not an ordinary rogue pack. Sure, their males were real villains in every singl sense of the word––they raided convoys, communes and clans, stole their money and supplies, killed hunters and patrollers. Yet, they didn’t do it for greed. They did all that to provide for the women in children of their pack.

They did that for the weak ones who were cast aside by their packs and left alone to die.

Or at least... that’s what the woman who found me unconscious in the woods told me.

When I came to, I was shocked to find out how simple everything in that pack was.

There were no titles, no control, no clinging to power. Everyone was equal.

They were all just living their lives. The best they knew how.

And, to my great surprise, it was there that I was offered a chance to live my life, too.

The woman who found me was named Stella. She was in her late forties, but her presence radiated a vitality that made her seem ageless.

She told me that, in the past, she had been a breeder for her pack’s Alpha. But when her "services" were no longer required, he ordered her uterus removed—stripping her of the only value they believed she had.

Before she had even healed, the Luna of that pack cast her out, sending her into the wild with nothing but the clothes on her back... and a death sentence hanging over her as a rogue.

By sheer luck—or perhaps fate—she stumbled into the Black Bone’s territory and was welcomed with open arms.

Night after night, I listened to Stella’s stories about the freedom she’d found here. At first, I thought she was embellishing the truth; it all sounded far too good to be real. But as the days passed, I began to see it for myself—every word she’d told me was true.

Despite the brutality the pack’s males committed to ensure their survival, for the first time in my life, I felt the fragile, intoxicating sense that I might actually belong somewhere.

Here, there was no constant fear of my peers plotting to trap or harm me. No looming threat of betrayal. No sleepless nights filled with nightmares and dread. No lies whispered behind my back.

For the first time... I was home.

Until one fateful night, when everything began to crumble.

"You’re burning up," I said, panic tightening my voice as I pulled my hand from Stella’s forehead. "Hold on, I’ll get the doctor."

"Don’t bother," she rasped, brushing away my concern with a trembling wave of her hand. "Just get me some whiskey with lemon—that’ll cure me in no time."

"Tsk." I clicked my tongue in disapproval, already draping a cardigan over my shoulders, one foot sliding out the door of our small, shared house. "That’s exactly what will send you straight to the grave. Alcohol is not a cure."

Stella kept protesting, her voice growing weaker with each word, but I was already outside, flinching as a sudden gust of ice-cold wind bit into my skin. It was late November, yet winter had decided not to wait—it had already laid claim to our land.

I hurried through the narrow paths between scattered sheds and houses like ours, cursing myself for only grabbing a cardigan. The doctor’s home wasn’t far, but the cold was sharp enough to slice through fabric and flesh alike, numbing my fingers and stiffening my steps.

The territory was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that made the air feel heavier, as if the night itself were holding its breath. Still, I knew these paths well enough to walk them blindfolded. And tonight, that wasn’t far from reality—the darkness was so deep I had to blink just to reassure myself my eyes were still open.

"Alright, there it is," I whispered when Max’s house finally came into view, just a couple dozen steps ahead. Relief warmed me slightly—soon I’d have the medicine, and maybe a few minutes of shelter by his fire.

I quickened my pace.

But halfway there, my body froze.

Because someone had trapped me.